


Contact

by aquafizzy10



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), M/M, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-18 11:40:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5927071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquafizzy10/pseuds/aquafizzy10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben Solo, the name on Rey's wrist, is dead. Kylo Ren takes his place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [in writing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5477522) by [theycallmesuperboy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theycallmesuperboy/pseuds/theycallmesuperboy). 



> Collaborated with theycallmesuperboy. Our two fics can pretty much go together like two puzzle pieces.

Her dreams all start the same way.

The sea breeze is gentle on her face, the water of the ocean cool on the tips of her toes. Behind her, lush green trees sprout up into the sky, reaching towards the stars. The air is not the dry heat of the desert, but so humid she feels as though she can stick out her tongue and drink from it. Rey walks alone, but she is not the only person on the island.

Other than the sounds of the ocean, she can hear life. Birds chirping in the trees, loud and foreign to her ears, insects buzzing around her head, chasing each other in the wind. There is laughter, and her family mirrors the bugs, running after one another and breaking free of the wall of green. There are several of them, including her parents, her siblings. A cousin, maybe. Each time she has this dream, she thinks she can almost remember their blurry faces.

She stares after them, distanced but with a warm heart. The young ones laugh and play in the sand, splashing salty water onto each other’s clothes. They are all dressed like her, and their parents,  _her_  parents, watch from the side, just as she does.

“Rey,” a kind voice whispers from behind her. She turns around, startled, but is not frightened. She doesn't know what his face looks like, but she knows that he is gentle, and honest, and one day he’ll be the one to come back for her.

“It’s you,” she says yearningly, as if she has not seen him in her dreams for a long time. Rey reaches out to touch him.

Her hand claws through his body like smoke. To her left, her family calls out her name, and Rey looks away for just a single moment, in between the time of two heartbeats. When she looks back at him, her Soulmate, he is nowhere to be found.

She wakes up.

* * *

The name on her wrist is hidden behind layers of material. Despite the wrappings, it still occasionally tingles, like the blood pulsing through her veins tickles the skin where the tattoo rests. It’s dark blue in color, written in neat, careful handwriting.

 _Ben Solo_.

She’s never met anyone with the name of Solo. She’s heard stories—legends, really—of the great pilot and smuggler who has the same surname. Ever since she was a child, she has wondered if, maybe, the two were related. But Ben is an odd name, for her area, where names are difficult to pronounce with her human tongue. Rey has always wondered if she will get the chance to meet him. Rey doesn’t dream of him being family to someone great. She dreams that the universe will be merciful enough to let them coincide in the same space at the same time. Breathe the same air. Know one another.

It isn’t uncommon, in an ever expanding universe, to never meet the person who has the name that is on your wrist. She doesn’t know what it is that draws two people together. Some stories say it’s magic, others say it’s their god. Mostly, though, people say that it’s the Force.

However, out here in the desert, there is nothing she can do. All that is left for her here is to scavenge for spare parts, for scraps of metal that burn her fingertips if left in the sun for too long. Out here, the only thing that matters is the fine line between life and death. Small white scratches line up against the wall beside her bed as a painful reminder that she is never changing. She is forever locked in a tower of her own making, stuck on the planet Jakku.

The desert is always dry, just like her eyes have learned to be. Maybe one day, when she finds her island surrounded by water, will Rey be able to cry.

* * *

The thing about Finn is that he’s the first person Rey has ever allowed herself get swept up by. The words "Resistance fighter" jangle around in her mind like loose screws in a tin can, and she finds that she is too easily willing to drop her entire life to help a small droid and the man who wears his master's leather jacket.

His sleeves are long like hers, the ends of his cuffs dirty and a bit worn. She cannot help but stare, as if her gaze could penetrate the material. Growing up among several different species, it is refreshing, and unfamiliar, to see a human tattoo. Finn, a trained soldier, must think her to be very rude. Still, he grabs her hand to run away but doesn’t even glimpse at the name that peeks out beneath the edges of her wrappings.

His manners are the strangest thing about him, including the way his voice goes high when talking about his home with the Resistance and the way he clutches the jacket that lies across his shoulders as though it’s a lifeline. She can tell by the bags under his eyes that there is an emotional weight on him, like doubled gravity, and Rey wonders if it’s pressure from the mission with BB-8 or something else altogether.

His hand is warm and scratchy in hers, with calluses from heavy work. She does not rely on his grasp, finds the heat of his skin too much for her desert-trained fingers, and does not accept it. But she wonders, the thought like a small trickle of water at the back of her mind, if the name on his wrist is her own. If Finn is a codename, because his arrival is like fate to her, and she would run with him and the small orange droid across the whole galaxy.

She wonders and wonders as they run through the sand. His feet are unbalanced and unpracticed, his shoes made for water and not for the desert. She bats his warm hands away from her own, clutches her staff for her own protection, and steals a craft that is nothing more than a pile of garbage.

At least it works.

* * *

The freighter ship zips at light-speed through space, passing through an empty zone while Han Solo recalibrates, stubborn enough to refuse her assistance. As he tinkers with a piece of sparking metal, taped together with chrome-laced cloth, Rey sees the name that spreads across his wrist, font beautiful and regal. _Leia Organa_. Han ignores her, but she stares at him for a few moments, and wonders if he is still with her—if they have ever even met.

When he turns to look back at Rey, the tails of her clothing whipping backwards in the air behind her are the only thing he manages to see.

* * *

Sometimes there are quiet moments, between her and Finn. With their running, they’ve barely had time to sit and breathe, let alone talk with one another. There is something dark inside him, she can see it in the stiff line of his lips and the way he hunches his shoulders when he thinks she isn’t looking. Something dark inside him, yes, but not evil.

The word she thinks of is  _troubled_.

Though she has not known him for long, Rey feels a swell of emotion when she looks at him. Her heart feels lighter, the gaping hole of loss feels less hollow. She wonders if this is what Soulmates feel like, but her guts instantly tells her that it is not. She knows, deep down, that this is only friendship, something she has not had in a long time. Still, she asks anyway, unable to help herself from knowing.

“Do you,” she pauses, ponders for the right words, uses the first thing that comes to mind anyway, “have one?”

Finn looks up at her, catches her eyes, and then looks down at his arm where her gaze is drawn. He nods, and folds the leather sleeve back, showing her the lines of his veins and the name on his skin.  _Poe Dameron_.

The fact that the name isn’t her own is both a disappointment and a relief. Disappointment, because she still has to look for her own, but immense relief because Finn does not feel  _right_ to her. “Have you met him?” she asks moments after she sees the name, overeager to hide her true feelings.

When Finn looks way, her questions turn genuine. Rushed. “Finn? Is he in the Resistance, like you?”

He nods, as if he never hesitated. “I did meet him. Once. And yeah,” his eyes turn so incredibly sad, “he was.”

Rey feels her blood go cold, her stomach dropping. “Was?”

“He died on Jakku. We crash-landed together.” Finn looks distant, but strong, like a true fighter. It is not surprising that the Resistance would use a man like him. A soldier to finish the mission, given to him by—

Rey lets out a small, involuntary gasp, remembering suddenly, “He was BB-8’s master!” The name on his wrist and the name given to her by the droid are one in the same.

Finn only hums in reply, looking as though he is deep in thought. He doesn’t look as though he’s lost his whole world, but lost something that could have been. Rey knows exactly how that loss feels. She doesn’t remember her family, only remembers the emptiness that was left over from their absence.

Rey thinks of Han Solo, and how they’ve all come together, as if the universe has plucked all of their strings and pulled them all towards one another. She says softly, words gentle, a hand light on his knee, “I’ve heard that the names on our wrists come from the Force linking two people together. For whatever reason, they’re meant to come into contact with one another. Sometimes it isn’t the person you’re most compatible with. Sometimes you have a purpose—something the two of you have to do.”

“Like a mission,” Finn says quietly. He squares his shoulders and straightens his back, looking as though he could tear a whole mountain apart with his bare hands. The dark pressure on his body lessens, and Rey feels pleased to help.

“Have you met yours?” he asks her, and finally makes solid eye contact, more than just the fleeting glances at her face. Rey stands from her crouching position in front of him when her thighs begin to burn. She shakes her head.

“Nobody new ever really comes to Jakku.” She thinks on that for several seconds, “Nobody but the Troopers. But I don’t think it’s one of them.” Rey snorts, the possibility ludicrous in any scenario her brain could make up. Though she has never met him, she feels as though she knows her Soulmate from her deepest dreams. He is kind in a way that a Trooper is not—the Troopers who are notoriously known for murder, kidnapping, and arson.

“Give me your hand,” he requests, even though he takes her arm before the words are finished coming out of his mouth. He traces his fingers up her palm, and digs them under her tight wrappings, inching the material up enough to see the full name. He smiles crookedly at her, “Nope, definitely  _not_ a Stormtrooper.”

“How can you be so sure?” she asks.

He releases her. “Stormtroopers don’t have names, only designations. Letters. Numbers.”

“That’s a relief.” She feels so strongly connected to Resistance, feels their cause flow through her like air into her lungs.

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

* * *

Han says Maz is an old friend, but it doesn’t matter if Finn leaves her. Of course he cannot be her Soulmate. She doesn’t know if he will ever come back.

* * *

Luke Skywalker’s lightsaber calls to her through layers of dirt and stone. Rey hears her own screams through grime-covered walls, and is drawn to the hidden room in a trance. She can hear its past before she lays a finger on it, and when her hand grips the edged handle, Rey’s entire world shifts on its axis. She doesn’t realize it there, in the darkest depths of an ancient castle, but her life, and the way the Force interacts with it, changes.

She leaves the saber, but it's not the last time that she will place her hands on it. It is, however, the last time she will take it in her grasp with an untrained hand. Even in the future, when she uses it in battle, does she understand at least the basic fundamentals of the Force. Rey will never be so innocent and naïve again.

* * *

She realizes now that her family is never coming back. The kindness in Maz’s eyes does not mask the painful truth of her words, and Rey only begins on her descent into fear and self-doubt. If her family will not come back for her, who is to say that Ben, a stranger, would even try to?

Needing to escape, she runs. Her shoes are not made for the terrain of the forest. She can feel the different levels and textures beneath her thin soles, all thick dirt and twigs and leaves. Like Finn before her, she is unbalanced, in more ways than one. When the Stormtroopers arrive, she is not ready.

Before she sees him, she can sense his presence. His aura is ominous, is dark and suffocating. She can feel it surround her, can feel anxiety creep up her throat as his heavy weight rests against every part of her skin, clammy like cold sweat. Rey acts on the survival instinct that has kept her alive for so long, firing her gun as many times as she can squeeze the trigger. He will not be her first kill, and she wonders if he will be the last.

His saber, which glows red like dark static, smells of burning metal. It fills the air with an eerie scent of death, and he uses it to dodge any shot that she sends his way. Kylo Ren backs her into a rocky corner, and she barely has the time to lift her lithe frame up onto the ledge. Rey tries to escape and fire as she moves away, but he lifts his hand and her entire body freezes. Her eyes are free to move in their sockets, but her muscles are locked, contracting against the Force, trying to move and becoming a body-wide cramp.

“The girl I’ve heard so much about.” His words are slow and masked by a filter, his helmet a wall between him and herself. She looks at where his eyes should be and sees black and silver, two slits covered by an opaque lens.

Rey grits her teeth, her jaw flexing painfully as she tries to break against the pressure on her body. Her eyes follow him as he circles her, and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up when he moves where she cannot see him.

“The droid.” She doesn’t answer—can’t. “Where is it?”

Rey’s jaw clenches, her teeth locked together, and his saber shoots out beside her face. The ends of her curls are singed beside her, and a drip of sweat runs down the side of her temple, down her cheek. He threatens her, and she can do nothing.

Then he pulls his weapon away. “You’ve seen it.” His words are surprised, an offending accusation. Of course she’s seen it, but she won’t tell him a thing.

“Sir,” a Stormtrooper interrupts, breathless from her run up the rocky hills of the forest. Rey can see her out of the corner of her eye, and is suddenly relieved. “Resistance fighters! We need more troops.”

“Pull the division out,” he orders with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Above the sound of her own heartbeat, Rey can hear shooting and screaming, the sound of rock colliding with the ground. “And the droid, sir?”

“Leave it. We have what we need.”

He violates her mind, as though he stuffs his fingers inside of it and pulls something out of her. Rey collapses before her mind goes entirely dark. The last thing she sees, with darkness encroaching on her vision, is the sight of her legs being pulled up in front of her, and the dark uniform of Kylo Ren. She cannot smell anything but seared steel and chrome.

Then there is nothing.

* * *

The room is ice cold, and Rey feels a shiver run down her spine the second she wakes up. The cuffs of her restraints are tight against her wrists, solid and hard, and she bruises her skin when she clashes against them. Her head feels heavy, and her mind dizzy, like she’s experienced heavy whiplash. The first thing her eyes focus on is her captor, who is crouched directly in front of her. She cannot see his eyes, but she knows he’s watching.

“Where am I?” She looks around, quickly, and notices that the details of the room are limited. There is a control panel, and a table, but the lighting is dark like a metal cage. The adrenaline in her system does not have much to focus on.

“You are my guest,” Kylo Ren says simply, and she cannot help the chills that run through her at the sound of his low voice. Rey’s stomach turns, and she wishes she had food in her stomach to vomit up all over him. She hates to admit that she’s frightened.

“Where are the others?”

Kylo Ren rises and hums. “You mean the murderers, traitors, and thieves you call friends?” The pause he gives is like a shrug, “You’ll be relieved to hear that I have no idea.” She hates that he is right, but the rush of relief at Finn and Han’s safety is worth it. The feeling quickly dies down, though, leaving anger in its place.

“You still want to kill me,” he muses. Her fury, stemming from her fear, bubbles inside of her, threatening to break free. It takes everything in her to keep from spitting in his face, a sign of great disrespect on Jakku. She’s not sure if he’d understand, but thinks it would paint her point across well enough.

“That happens when you’re being hunted by a creature in a mask,” she says instead.

The way his body tenses makes her think that he is going to hit her. Instead, his fingers curl underneath his jaw, and the helmet that covers his face comes off with a sharp  _hiss_.

He reveals his true face to her, and he is not what Rey expected. He is young, with dark eyes that scream instability and danger. He looks as though he has never smiled a day in his life, and has not bothered to cut his hair in a couple of years. There are shadows under his eyes, purple and heavy, and she is not surprised because the darkness seems to follow him with every thudding step he takes.

Kylo Ren drops the helmet into a box of rock and coal. He moves to her, slides his hand across the smooth metal of the restraining chair she’s tied to. He is so close that if he moves another inch, he could easily skim his nose along the side of her face. Rey holds her breath and stares forward, cursing her shaking body for betraying her. She will  _not_ be frightened by him. Her arms flex as she tries to find her inner strength. Her body feels nauseous and weak, but she will not let it disable her.

When Rey does nothing but stare at him, eyes bright, he goes on. “Tell me about the droid.”

Rey says quickly, nervously, “He's a BB unit with a selenium drive and a thermal hyperscan vindicator—”

Her words are cut off by the raise of his hand. He does not use the Force on her, but her throat clenches up from anyway. He cannot tell, but her heart beats rapidly in her chest. “No. He's carrying a section of a navigational chart. We have the rest, recovered from archives of the Empire. We need the last piece. And somehow, you convinced the droid to show it to you. You. A  _scavenger_.” He sounds so intensely irritated, one step away from threatening her and then going through with it. His words cut through her, and the phrase she said to herself echoes throughout her head.

 _I’m nobody_.

His hand rises, fingers moving to caress her face, though they never close the distance. His gloves remain just a centimeter from her skin, and a beat passes through them both, pulsing, like a heartbeat or an electrical shock. “You know I can take whatever I want,” he murmurers.

Then he closes the gap between them both, and all she can feel is cool, sticky leather against her cheek. She feels him probe at her mind, at her safe protective bubble. He’s dark and sharp, puncturing it far too easily, delving in faster than she can hold back. He’s like black sand slipping through her fingers.

“You’re so lonely,” he says quietly, distantly. She can feel the dark tendrils of his mind lashing and digging into her own, like hooks grounding themselves into the earth. She sees the same things he does, and like he promised, he takes the images of her quiet thoughts and yanks them away from her. He tears apart her strongly built chains as though they were made of air.

“I see it now. Your island.” In her dreams, where Rey and her family sit on the beach, he is there with her. He watches like a dark omen, and separates her from the others. The shapes that take the form of her mother and father walk away from her now, hand-in-hand with a daughter who has short brown hair curled into buns against the side of her head. Rey wants to move, to run after them, but Kylo Ren holds her down by the shoulders and forbids her to leave.

Rey panics and searches for help inside the prison of her mind, but even her Soulmate is lost, nowhere to be found. Kylo Ren has not only killed him, but destroyed his image from her thoughts completely. Kylo Ren stands as a dark shadow in his place, and forces Rey to sit on the beachy sand. The water is hot. Boiling. The air is achingly dry, and her mouth begs for water. Her most sacred dream has become nothing more than a nightmare. Aloud, Rey grunts, but inside, her mind howls.

He speaks again, in physical reality, but his words sound like drunken slurs to her, her mind hazy as though plunged underwater. She tries to resist him, and thinks that there may be tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, but it’s hard to tell. He surrounds her, encompasses her. There is nowhere she can go where he is not.

Almost as though he can sense her disconnection, he pulls back slightly, enough to keep her present and coherent. Her eyes can focus again, and she concentrates hard on the chrome wall in front of her, half-covered in blackness.

Her mind pushes back, fights his dark invasion with the light inside of her. She pushes against him with memories that give her hope: the flowers that sometimes grown in the dead of winter when the heat dies down, her Resistance Fighter helmet she found buried by her home, the doll she made as a child, the memory of rain, the smell of evergreens on the planet covered in them, Finn, gushing about her piloting skills aboard the Millennium Falcon, BB-8 beeping and chatting about how kind his master is while accompanying her on a scavenging quest back on Jakku, Han Solo offering her a job, the highest honor she thinks she can ever possibly achieve…

Kylo Ren recoils.

“Han Solo,” he says, her ears recognizing his voice as words again, “you feel like he’s the father you never had. He would’ve disappointed you.”

His presence is like agony to her. “Get out of my head,” she grits out, certain that her teeth will shatter with the force she clenches them with. Kylo Ren inches closer, so near that she can feel his breath on her face. “I’m not giving you anything,” Rey says.

“We’ll see about that.”

The connection between them intensifies, solidifies into something real and tangible. He pushes against her in waves, each more powerful than the last. But Rey has been starved since she turned five and searched for junk parts in the desert to survive. She has suffered from abandonment and gang beatings, gone days without water, and has learned by bruises and broken bones how to defend herself and the things she owns. She has not had to protect people she loves before, but now she will put her own life at risk to do so. Anything he does cannot,  _will not_ , break her.

Her mental walls, at first translucent like glass, become hard and opaque like stone. They become impenetrable, pushing him out. Her mind feels raw, like it was scrubbed with a stiff brush over and over again. Kylo Ren comes back at her with his full force, but she feels as though she’s ready for him, suddenly fueled with faith and light. He tries to break back inside, but cannot.

Instead of cowering beneath him, Rey locks their gazes, and stares into his eyes. They are dark and bottomless, like an abyss, or a miles-deep canyon. She mirrors him, pushing with her whole self, battling his anger with something else. Her fury from moments before only made her more frightened, but having something worth fighting for makes her body feel strong. She exercises her mind so much that she feels as he does, like a ghost trailing behind her, faint as a shadow.

Rey is sure she can see into the thoughts in his mind. Only what’s on top, on the very first layer. His mind is strangely familiar to her, different than the offensive Force used to invade her own thoughts. She can feel his anger, and turmoil, and most prominently,  _fear_. “You are afraid,” she says, amazed that he is as human as she is, “ _that you will never be as strong as Darth Vader_.”

All at once, the mental connection is severed. Her head still buzzes as though he has not completely left, but Kylo Ren looks at her as though she is something to be feared. He does not breathe for a moment, but she pants, not breaking her eyes away from his own until he turns away from her and exist the room. He walks as though he is stepping on fire, and his hands curl into fists at his sides as he stalks out of the sliding doors.

Kylo Ren leaves the helmet behind, and it stares at her as one white guard files in at the door to fill his place.

* * *

 

_And you will drop your gun._

“And I will drop my gun.”

The Starkiller is full of never-ending corridors and high-powered panels. Every corner she turns, there is another group of soldiers, armed to kill her. They walk neatly and orderly, backs so straight she thinks it must be impossible for them to breathe. The fact that Finn came from this, escaped from this, makes her wonder what she even knows about him. Imagining him in white, full-body armor makes her feel ill, but she can see the traces of him in all of them. The black material underneath the white shells, the consistent footsteps-- even the gun she holds matches how he shoots a weapon. No wonder he knew so much.

She feels stupid for not seeing all the facts, and feels even stupider for running without a plan. Escaping proves to be harder than she thought, and Rey knows it’s because she was unconscious when they brought her on board. She doesn’t even know which way the hangar, full of ships that lead to home, is. While Rey is strong, and armed with a gun and the growing power of the Force, she is not sure if she will make it off the planet alive. She knows that she will either escape, or go down fighting.

Her thoughts go back to the old woman scrubbing spare parts on Jakku, and she knows that there are worse ways to die.

It’s strange, though, that she seems to be made for this. Made for infiltrating, for escaping. Her skills of survival ruled her childhood, and she uses them now with ease. She climbs without fear, jumps and dives without being bothered to look down below her. She knows the stakes, and knows the familiar feel of adrenaline moving through her veins, powering her every move. Rey’s small body is unseen, not even a blimp on the security scan of the entire ship, despite being on full lock-down. Being nobody is something she excels at.

Rey thinks she may have done it on her own. She could have escaped, and run away, and maybe regrouped with survivors or gone back to Jakku. If she had not gone around that specific corner, and crossed into that very hallway, then the Resistance would have been destroyed and she would have been on the run until a saber went through her chest after months of paranoia.

But that is not how this story goes.

Rey sprints and runs face-first into the chest of Finn. His hands automatically catch her by her arms, holding her upright in front of him. Her heart is like a quick rabbit in her chest, and she forces herself to stop the stinging of tears in her eyes. Like any other reflex, she throws her arms across Finn’s shoulders and pulls him into an embrace without another thought. He came back for her.

“Can we save the hugging for later? We have to go  _now_.” Her legs still impatiently bounce, and after one look at Han Solo, she is ready to run once more. For a few blissful minutes, she thinks that when they make it out of here, she will be a part of a new family. Kylo Ren was wrong to pick out her most secret dreams, but that does not make anything that he said  _incorrect_. She _is_ lonely.

* * *

“Plant these,” Han says to her later, when she is covered by Finn’s large jacket, which hangs off her shoulders like large branches off a tree. He fills her arms with dark little bombs, and she and Finn are quick to place them. Every time Rey looks up at the sky, the sun is smaller and smaller. On Jakku, she had always dreamed of the sun one day vanishing, of being able to live one day in cool, dark bliss. She never thought that the actual event would be a tragedy.

“They’re still inside,” Finn says nervously, and he curls his fingers around her elbow as a way to pull her closer to him. He hesitates, staring at the gaping entrance of the thermal oscillator. Rey takes one look at his face and pulls them in together.

“ _Ben_!” The name is quiet by the time she and Finn stumble inside, and snow shakes off of them. The room is so dark she can barely see anything but blinking red lights and two silhouettes, dozens of floors below them. Rey has to squint her eyes to see them, but Han’s voice is loud as it echoes across the walls of the chamber, the sound bouncing back and forth. They manage to catch the tail end of what he is saying, and Rey’s heartbeat spikes. Confusion hits her like the powerful winds of a dust storm.

It becomes obvious that the other figure on the bridge is Kylo Ren, she can tell by the way the red lights reflect off of the silver in his mask. He must have gone back for it when he went to retrieve her, and found her torture restraints empty. As Han and him stand in front of each other, time seems to stop for one horrifyingly long moment. She hears nothing but her and Finn’s labored breathing and the pounding of her heart.

“Take off that mask and face me.” His words are demanding, but Han’s tone sounds like a plea. It’s something she’s never heard before.

“What do you think you’ll see if I do?”

“The face of my  _son_.”

Hesitation. The mask is removed, held in his one hand. “Your son is gone. He was weak and foolish like his father, so I destroyed him.”

Another standoff, and Rey understands.

Ben, his son.

The tattoo on her wrist suddenly  _burns_. Her hands shake, a grip too unsteady to even hold the railing out in front of her. She cannot see Finn by his face, but he holds her close to him, as if he knows, too. He did see the name after all.

She strains to hear the rest of their conversation, but their words are too quiet to rise above the loud roaring she hears. She can only watch, acting as a bystander, as Kylo Ren impales his own father with his lightsaber.

All at once, Rey can cry again. Unfortunately, unlike she promised herself as a child, these tears are not of happiness, but of grief.

* * *

The planet-sized First Order base implodes on itself. Chewbacca manages to fly the Millennium Falcon smoothly on his own, the seat next to him lonely and empty. It spins slightly with a quiet creak at every turn the ship takes. The course is set for D’Qar, location of the Resistance. Rey has always wanted to go there, but wonders how she’ll be able to look anyone in the eye after this. They’re a man down, and she feels dirtied by what she knows now.

However, she can’t afford to worry about it. Wet and sticky blood covers her hands as she presses her wrappings against Finn’s wound. It’s long, stretching across the line of his spine, and is a mix between a cut and a burn. Rey knows how to treat either, has had her fair share of makeshift ointments and stitches, but does not know how to treat them both. Finn’s breathing is shallow and uneven, and she has never wanted anything more in her life than for him to live.

Rey lets her eyes close, a small flutter of concentrated action. She blocks her mind of everything that has happened, ignores the aching in her shoulders and the scratches on her face, and just focuses on her, and Finn. Breathe in, breathe out, and they’ll both be okay.

When she opens her eyes again, they’ve landed.

* * *

On the fourth night of sleeping in a small, uncomfortable chair next to Finn’s bedside, Rey is kicked out of the med-bay.

The room is dimly lit, with monitors and machines beeping every few seconds. She’s gotten used to the sounds by this point, though she won’t sleep fully until she can hear the peace of the desert and the quiet howl of the wind. Or, at least, something like it. There is nothing left on Jakku for her now.

Rey’s hand supports her head as she dozes in and out of sleep. She only wakes up when the door quietly closes, and she blinks her heavy eyes to see Poe, the pilot, stepping into the room. Her hair sticks to the side of her face, and a large, blotchy red spot shows up on her skin from her hand. “Hey,” Poe greets quietly, talking as though Finn is asleep and he could wake him up. He does it for himself, she knows, because he’s so frightened that Finn’s gone forever.

Pulling herself upright, she gives him a small smile. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”

Poe laughs, and grabs the seat next to her. He drags it around so they’re facing each other, still in the direction of Finn. Always watching him, always checking. “I could ask you the same thing, ma’am.”

Her face goes bright red, flushing down her neck. “Please, just Rey. I’ve told you that already.”

“You’re a hero here.”

Rey gives him a look, “So are you.”

Poe has the decency to give a sheepish smile. “Maybe, but I was born with these people. I’ve got things to protect. You saved a whole rebellion that you weren’t even a part of.”

She’s quiet for a minute. She stares at Finn, and his breathing, eyes trailing over the tubes that keep him going. His jacket rests on the back of her chair, and his whole upper-torso is covered in bandages. “I had things to protect,” she replies.

Poe watches her. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was your Soulmate.”

Rey  _really_ gives him a look this time, and he raises his hands as if to surrender in defense. “Hey, I said  _if_ I didn’t know any better. Which clearly, I do.” He jokes, and taps at his bare wrist. His two fingers hit against the N’s in Finn’s name. Rey looks at herself, and how she hides every part of her arm from the elbow to her fingers, her wrappings like long, fingerless gloves. She’s told no one.

“Do you have someone, Rey?” Poe asks, and his hand goes to pat her own, which sits on the armrest of her chair.

She’s had time to think about it while she’s waited for Finn to wake up, but that doesn’t make the truth any less painful. She’s had to deal with so much pain, recently, has had to come to terms with truths that she never wanted to know. Responsibility she’s never asked for. “I have a Soulmate, if that’s what you’re asking.” Her words are guarded, but she finds she can trust Poe. How could she not trust the match of Finn, whose hands she’s put her life into? “But we’re not together. It’s not… it’s complicated.”

“Complicated,” Poe hums. She knows he’s looking at her covered wrist, squinting as though he’s trying to see through the material that hides the name, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he says, “Maybe the only thing you can do with ‘complicated’ is give it time and see what happens.”

“Maybe,” she echoes. She examines Poe closely, the most attention she’s really paid to his appearance since they’ve first met. On first glance, he’s as handsome as ever, with a charismatic smile and sparkling eyes. But now, in this lighting at this hour, she can tell how much stress is on him. His eyes look more sunken, the bags showing how exhausted he is. His smile is strained, especially when he looks at Finn. It kills Poe to see him like this, she realizes.

“You’re good for him,” she says out loud. They’ve had a couple conversations before this, but nothing important, or in depth.

“I’m sorry?”

“For Finn,” she clarifies, and leans forward. “You two are a good match. You’re both good men.”

His eyebrows pull together, making him look vulnerable, not believing her. The cheerful pilot is gone, taken a momentary leave of absence while his Soulmate remains in a medically-induced coma. “You really think that? Honestly?”

“Truly. I’m lucky to know you both.” She thinks about her next few words, and says them slowly, not sure what’s going to come out of her mouth until it happens. “You are the… perfect definition of love. I’ve seen bad matches, and impossible matches, but you two are the first pair I’ve seen who I think will actually  _work_.”

Poe blinks rapidly and looks away. She watches the side of his face in the dark. His cheek rises, mouth smiling, and he’s a bit less exhausted when he turns back to look at her. “Oh, Rey, stop it. You’re gonna to make me blush.”

This time, instead of patting her hand, he takes it in his own. For once, she allows it. His face is inches from hers, and she knows he’s genuine because there is no hiding his eyes. “Trust me,” he says, “you’re going to be happy. No matter who they are, or where they come from, or how bumpy the road there is, it’ll happen. I know it.”

“Thank you,” she says, because there is nothing else she can say. How can she tell him how wrong he is, without telling him everything? She cannot even admit it to herself just yet. She has never said the words aloud. Doesn’t matter, her Soulmate is as good as dead. Escaping an imploding planet without a ship is next to impossible. It’s  _complicated._

He releases her, but she is comfortable in his presence. They sit in silence for ten more standard minutes, and then Poe lightly taps her ankle with the toe of his boot when he sees her dozing off again. “Come on, let’s get you to a real bed. General Organa will have my head if she knows I let you stay in here again. The nurses told me two days ago that you’re not allowed in here after hours.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you are, but do it just to humor me.” He offers her his hand, and raises his eyebrows when she looks up at his face. With one last look at Finn, she sighs, ignores his hand, and stands up on her own. She likes Poe, because when she walks past him, he lets out a loud laugh.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: this is not canon-compliant with TLJ! We're actually just going to ignore most of that film except for a few bits and pieces.

The mechanics and engineers take apart the Millennium Falcon like they’re cracking a nut, and Rey cannot bear to be anywhere else but with them. She watches and tries her best not to interfere, overseeing the repairs and offering her assistance when needed. Her favorite spot to sit is on a series of crates, tall enough where she can watch over their heads as they kneel down and take a good, long look at the wires underneath the paneling.

There’s not too much damage overall, they tell her. The worst thing will be the maintenance, which will take a week of the ship sitting empty in port, doors wide open, free. It makes her nervous, but Rey knows that she has to get used to this new planet, where not everyone is trying to steal for an extra portion of food or two.

In fact, in her handful of days with the Resistance, Rey has already gained weight. It’s nothing substantial, and does not even show on her tiny frame, but her stomach sometimes bloats so much it hurts. Her body feels off from the new air and all the water, and her stomach rejects dairy, a pleasantry she has never had before. Even the fruits, fresh from the gardens, sting her mouth with their acidity. She has been trained to eat very little of the same thing every day since she was a child.

That is why, whenever she has a plate full of food, she cannot eat it all, but cannot stand to see it go to waste. She will stuff herself before she lets the food rot somewhere, untouched, unused. “Rey,” one of the engineers call out to her, interrupting her thoughts, voice muffled. She’s somewhere beneath the floor, and Rey is only slightly familiar with the part of the ship that they’re in.

Sometimes, there are very few differences between the smuggling rooms and actual ventilation. Judging by the faces of the team, they’re terrified they may break something vital, and put the ship out of commission. Despite looking like garbage, it’s a piece of war treasure, and they all find that restoring it somehow honors the memory of Han Solo. They never speak the words aloud, but Rey knows by their dedication that they all agree.  

“What is it, Joce?” Rey asks, hopping down from her perched seat. The metal rings when she lands on it, loud from the pounding of her new, heavy boots.

“Take a look at this.” There is a smile in her voice, and Rey moves quickly, eager to see what they found hidden beneath them. Peering into the gaping hole, there isn’t much to see. There’s enough room for a person, and not much else, but Joce manages to pull out a box from a smuggling container and squeeze it between her body and the wall. Rey reaches down to take it from her.

Rey sets it on the ground beside her, and offers a hand to help Joce climb her way out. Then, she peels the container open and shuffles through the items inside, realizing with a tight throat that it wasn’t something left over from a job, or a box of spare parts. “These are his _things_ ,” she says quietly, taking note of a gun holster, some magazines, a spare pair of shoes, and a small book. Beneath those items, a large pile of, for lack of better terms, _junk_ sits, smushed together. Rey swallows.

“Someone should take these items to General Organa.” She looks up to catch the eyes of the team, but they all look down, unable to catch her gaze. No volunteers. Rey gives a small frown, only the corners of her lips pulling down. She does not mind, but does not feel right to be the one to return his things to the General. She had watched him die, after all. Her Soulmate was the one to do it. But nobody speaks a word, and with a grunting breath, Rey rises.

She leaves the ship with the box heavy in her arms, squeezed tight to her chest. It’s as large as her arms can reach, and her hands barely curl around the edges. Somehow, she manages. Walking slowly down the landing strip, as to avoid dropping it and breaking anything important, Rey takes her time to watch everyone. She still feels like a stranger imposing on someone’s home. Everything here is still so odd to her.

For example, she knows of soldiers, of Stormtroopers and Rebels and anything in between. She has met her fair share of deserters, and knows of mutiny, theft, and fear. The Resistance, however, is something else entirely. Rey has never seen such loyalty before, and here, with jogging soldiers and pilots in uniforms, does she get to actually witness it. They are all part of a functioning unit, and she feels as though she’s a spare part thrown into a clock, about to ruin the whole thing.

But Poe smiles at her from afar, and gives a small wave. Following his example, the others greet her as well, and she hears a small chorus of _Hello, Rey_! There is a smile on her face before she realizes it, and it only dims when she reaches the main building, where General Organa organizes battle strategies and intercepts intel. 

The doors are locked here, at least. There is a camera at the entrance, and the door buzzes before opening, giving her clearance to go inside. It’s slow compared to the battle days that she’s used to. Inside, several tech officers speak into their headsets and search through their panels. There are several languages she does not recognize, which is an odd feeling to her. Rey is able to understand every language from her outpost at Jakku, and can speak a handful fluently.

General Organa stands behind one of her officers, squinting at his screen, reading the changing text over with intense scrutiny. Rey stops in her tracks, and clutches the box in her hands, waiting. Several moments pass before the General pulls away, and finally looks in her direction. Her worried expression smooths over, turning into a diplomatic smile. “Rey, how nice to see you.”

“General Organa,” she greets, and sets the box on top of the circular table in the center of the room. Without the holograms filling the air, it acts as an empty, unused desk.

“What’s this?” the General asks, running her gaze over it warily. Rey gives an apologetic smile.

“A box we found on the Falcon. There are some of his things inside of it.” She doesn’t have to say who, Rey knows that General Organa immediately understands. 

The box is opened quickly, and each thing the General pulls out, she recognizes. She looks nostalgic as she touches them, though her nose wrinkles in distaste at the magazines. Rey did not have to look through them to know what they are. “It’s a miracle you found this,” she tells Rey.

“Why?”

A sad smile. “That ship has changed hands so many times, it’s amazing that anything of Han’s has survived. He hid it well, apparently.”

Rey has no reply, because she can imagine why, and watches as General Organa flips through the small book. The cover is dark leather, and the pages inside look yellowed and hand-written. “What is that?”

“A journal. He was not a very sentimental person, but he kept things, sometimes.” She pulls out a piece of paper from in between the pages. It’s small, dark blue, and shines in the light, like the stamp on the front is holographic. “This is a ticket to an underground Pod race.” Her mouth twists as she stares at it, “He followed our son, Ben, because he figured out that he was sneaking out to become a racer. I was _furious_ , but Han was proud.”

“How old was he?”

“Ben? Fourteen.”

Rey cannot believe that she asked about him so quickly. She feels uncomfortable whenever she thinks of him, but her whole body aches to know more. The mention of his name makes her want to run and stay still simultaneously, and she feels as though it’s tearing her apart. She opens her mouth to ask another question, but one of the computers beeps, loud and clear throughout the room. Something has been found on one of the sensors. General Organa snaps the ticket back into the book, and quickly places it back in the box, the moment broken.

“General,” one of the techs say over their shoulder, “we’ve got something.”

“What is it? What do we know?”

There is a pause, “There are survivors.”

The atmosphere in the room is suddenly tense. “Keep going,” General Organa urges, and the tech taps at something, fingers rapid. “Several figures, not sure who, just yet.” He throws up a hologram from his station, surveying the scene, and Rey moves from her place at the table to get a better look. “A ship being boarded minutes before the destruction of Starkiller. If only I could just…” the picture blurs out for a moment, and then clears up enough to zoom in. There, the image of Kylo Ren and his fellow commanders are unmistakable.

Rey cannot look at anyone but the holographic photo. “Did the ship survive the temporary supernova?” General Organa asks, and the picture shifts. A ship making its way through wreckage, piloting through debris and metal from the First Order base, already coming apart.

The picture changes again, and the ship is gone as the planet begins to implode, but trails of exhaust are highlighted by the heat-reader. “They jumped to lightspeed, ma’am. They escaped.”

General Organa’s face is hard like ice. “Do we know anything else?”

“No ma’am.”

“Very well.” Her eyes sweep the room, and she orders, “No one breathe a word of this. We don’t need a panic before we have any more information. Technical officers, keep searching for what you can. Everyone else is dismissed.” Rey tears her eyes away from the picture almost painfully, looking to catch General Organa’s gaze. They stare at each other, before Rey nods. Everyone shuffles to do their duty, and Rey leaves to do nothing.

* * *

Two days later and Rey feels as though she wants to tear off her own skin. The sunlight feels wrong to her here, on D’Qar. It’s not hot enough, not overbearing enough, and she wants nothing more than to dig her toes into sand and tilt her face up to catch the sun’s rays. All her life, she has dreamed of leaving Jakku, but now she cannot adjust quite right. Everything she knew is gone, and everything in her life has flipped upside-down.

She punches into the air, fists colliding with a long, hard bag.

The bandages on her knuckles keep her skin from ripping apart, but purple bruises blossom underneath. The force she swings with is the same as the Great Storm she lived through when she was eleven, where sand was trapped in her hair and in her home for three weeks. She had never seen winds so strong and so dry before, and now, Rey reminds herself of that power.

When she finishes, sweat drips off her tired and aching body. Her knuckles are throbbing and swelling, and she puffs out air as though she had stopped breathing completely. Rey started the day on empty, and pushes through until there is hardly anything left to keep her standing. When her body wobbles, sways side to side in her spot, she grips the hanging bag for balance.

Then she hears the footsteps.

Straightening, Rey turns on her heels. She is still quick and agile, and her gaze settles on General Organa, who slowly approaches her with her hands locked behind her back. She’s dressed in her normal uniform, hair neatly pulled up high. Rey’s own hair is wet, sticky against her face and halfway torn out of her normally placed buns. “General,” she states politely, though her voice is weak and breathless.

General Organa gives a small nod, “Rey.”

They stare at each other in silence, and as the seconds pass by, Rey can only swallow as she keeps her gaze steady. Finally, the General speaks, offering her hand, “Come walk with me.” It is not a command, but Rey feels as though she cannot turn her down. She places her hand gently in hers, and follows her outside.

General Organa looks peaceful the second she’s in fresh air. She looks at the thick trees that surround their base as if they’re a beautiful garden. She walks with an air of grace, her posture never failing, and Rey feels her back straighten as she compares herself to the woman. Though her features are delicate at first glance, Rey knows that she is nothing but strength beneath them.

They walk quietly, the atmosphere turning from suffocating to peaceful as Rey practices her breathing. She finds it relaxing, staring at the foliage instead of the General’s questioning eyes. It makes it easier to answer the question that she asks, “What’s troubling you?”

“Nothing,” Rey replies.

General Organa squeezes her hand, and Rey looks to her. There is a soft smile on her face, the glint in her eyes amused and familiar. “While I’m not nearly as in-touch with the Force as my brother or yourself, I am still sensitive enough to know when somebody is lying to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Rey apologizes instantly.

“I’m not angry.” She says the words slowly. Rey would feel offended, if she did not know what kind of person her son must have been to raise, “I just want to help.”

“There is nothing to help.” Not a lie, this time. Simple.

“Please, let me try.”

Warm and sad eyes search Rey’s own, and Rey has to turn away again to speak. “General, there is nothing—”

“—Leia.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Please, call me Leia. Only my soldiers call me General.” Rey is relieved to know that she is not expected to take up a uniform. She doesn’t know if she could ever have what it takes. She doesn’t know if she is that kind of person, who can step in and follow orders.

Rey slowly stops walking.

She breathes in the air, and takes in her surroundings. This planet feels strange, but she thinks, one day, she could call it home. Rey does not know where to begin to explain, because her life has become so suddenly complicated, and her mind has not even made sense of it all on its own.

Instead of opening her mouth to speak, and telling a botched and incomplete story, Rey holds up her arm. She unravels her boxing tape first, and keeps going with her usual wrappings, until the skin of her arm is naked. There, Leia takes her hand with gentle fingers, and holds her wrist closer to her face, closely inspecting her tattoo.

She stares at it for a long time. Rey stands still in her spot, but cannot get a reading from her. Is this a bad sign? She can’t tell. Eventually, when the grip of Leia’s hand softens, Rey pulls her wrist away, holding it close to her body as she hastily rewraps it. “I’m sorry,” she rushes out, nerves coiling in her chest, “I shouldn’t have shown you that.”

"No," Leia says, "I think I needed to see it."

Rey’s breaths are heavy. Part of her wants to forget about it, to laugh as if the whole thing is a joke. Ever since she found out, she has wanted nothing more than to have the name slowly wash off her skin, like dirt streaking off with water. Another part of her, the part that’s in tune with the Force, knows that this is the truth. She knows, deep down, that she must face this eventually.

“Now you know,” Rey says. “If you don’t want me to go see Luke anymore, that’s fine. I can go somewhere else.” She’s used to being alone, although the brave offer makes her heart go chilly in her chest. Her thoughts go to Finn, unconscious in the infirmary wing, and she doesn’t think she could leave him without knowing that she’ll see him again.

But Leia does not take her up on it. “No, you have no idea what this means,” she says firmly, reaching out and curling her fingers around Rey’s forearm. She speaks confidently, as though Rey has confirmed something for her.

Rey’s eyebrows pull together, “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“ _Rey_.” There is a light in Leia’s face that was not there before, a happiness. “This means _everything_. Right now, you’re my only hope.”

Doubt claws through her, a dangerous thing that sneaks up her throat and chokes her. Rey has never asked for this kind of responsibility. “I don’t know what that means.”

Her hands go to Rey’s shoulders, and she takes a step closer. Their faces would be almost level if Leia were not so short. There is a kindness in these gestures that only comes from a practiced mother’s hands, something that is as foreign to Rey’s empty heart as the gruff protection of a man who gave her her very first gun.

“It means that you can bring him home.”

The words spark a memory, of a conversation with Finn that felt like both hours and years ago. A Soulmate is not always a connection, but a purpose. Rey hates that. She hates that she is becoming nothing more than the universe’s tool, used to do its dirty work and then tossed away. Her shoulders sag at the thought of such a quest, and Leia pulls her into a hug.

“Oh dear girl,” she whispers into Rey’s ear. “I wouldn’t ask this of you if there was another way. You’re everything that I’ve ever dreamed of, for him.” When she releases her, Leia says, “I’ve waited a long time to meet you.”

Rey realizes that from this point on, General Leia Organa will not view her through the eyes of a powerful leader, but through the eyes of a woman desperate for her child. Rey thinks the latter is worse, for there is nothing she can do if her son really is lost to the dark side forever.

* * *

The fact that the base turned sending Rey off into an occasion almost makes her cry. She’s given new clothes to wear, with new shoes and new wrappings, and plenty of extras for her trip. The pilots, engineers, and technical crew all dress up in their polished uniforms to say goodbye.

Even Poe, who has hardly left Finn’s bedside, has brought BB-8 to see her away. She cannot help but give him a hug, because after Finn, he is the closest person here that she can call a friend. “Thank you,” she tells him as she pulls away.

He smiles warmly at her, head tilting to the side in slight confusion, “For what?”

Rey shakes her head, “Just _thank you_ , Poe.”

Behind her, R2D2 beeps, and Chewbacca nudges at him. Rey knows that they are antsy and impatient, so she bids everyone a farewell. “Call me when Finn wakes up,” she requests before she begins to back away. “Call me if anything happens at all.”

The doors of the ship automatically close behind her as soon as she’s inside. It smells the same, dirty and old with a hint of grease, but it rides like a dream. The trip is not the hassle she expected it to be.

* * *

The coordinates left behind lead to an island. The planet is unknown, lost to a forgotten system, but it doesn’t matter what it’s called or where it is. The island is not the same one from her dreams, because the water is cold like ice and is covered with mountains and rock. There’s green here, though, and it’s beautiful, and she thinks that she may find more peace here than the place where a dark shadow still haunts her sleep.

The levels of carved stone steps are no match for her legs, which are toned from years of climbing steep sand dunes and fallen ships. Her breath is a little short, and after an hour, the bag on her back begins to weigh her down, but she continues. Little else but determination fuels her, and she can almost feel her Lightsaber, cold like ice, through the material of her sack.

The journey gives her time alone to think to herself, without the constant presence of danger, or of people watching her every turn. She can feel Luke through the Force, but his presence is so distant she can almost convince herself she imagined it.

The breeze from the sea is chilly against her skin. She did not know that an ocean could be so clearly blue, or so deep, and Rey knows that if she were to topple over, there is no shoreline for hundreds of miles. Her body would be eaten by small fish before a sandy beach found her body. But it has been years since she has been afraid of heights, and her knees no longer wobble at the thought of such a horrible death. Instead, it powers her strength.

Her strength… Rey knows why she is here. It is the first time she’s admitted it to herself, honestly, without any lies. She hopes that whatever Luke can teach her, it will help the turmoil inside her. She hopes that she can find the inner strength to do the mission she was made for, otherwise she fears that she’ll run from the name on her wrist forever.

 She doesn’t know what to expect from Luke, but it certainly isn’t what waits for her at the top of the highest peak. She’s greeted by a hood, and cautious eyes when he finally turns to her. Like his sister before him, he and Rey stare at each other in silence, each beat passing by agonizingly slow. Rey feels as though her arm will begin to burn if she holds his Lightsaber outwards any longer.

Finally, he takes it. “I’ve been waiting for you. What’s your name?”

“Rey.”

A muscle in his jaw twitches, “I see.” His eyes run over her body, as if he’s debating whether or not she’s worth the effort. He decides quickly. “Very well. Follow me.”

* * *

The strange thing about Luke is that, despite the way he’s isolated himself, he still has a sense of humor. It’s a bit dark, maybe a little twisted, but there in a way that Rey can appreciate. It makes her feel a little less on-edge, makes the swell of nerves in her chest die down.

They walk together, side-by-side, on the trip back down the miles of stairs. It’s slippery, the wind shifting with the tide to create a sheen of mist against the stone, and Rey uses extra caution. Luke does not seem to mind, though halfway, he jokes, “For the first part of your training, it would be best for you to carry me the rest of the way down.”

Her head snaps to her left, and she searches his face to tell if he’s joking or not. She’s relieved at the small smile that plays on the corner of his lips. “Is that something you normally have your apprentices do?” Rey asks.

“Padawans,” he corrects offhandedly. “No, but it’s a technique that I’ve been introduced to before.” He doesn’t look at her very much, but stares off at the horizon of the sea instead. He never asks about her, and she doesn’t ask anything else about him. The rest of the way down is filled with the sounds of the waves violently crashing against the rocks below. There are no gradual shores here, only the sharp walls.

* * *

That night, he invites the three of them to dinner. Chewbacca and R2D2 entertain themselves aboard the Falcon, which leaves her and Luke alone in his home.

It isn’t much, but it surely is ancient. A large cavern digs itself underneath the base of the mountain, protected against rain, wind, and ocean. The technology is older, but not unusable, giving only the basic necessities. It isn’t as though Luke needs to lock his doors.

She sits at his small table, where he only has one chair. Rey does not know where to sit, but he gestures to it when they walk in, so she takes it as an invitation. He cooks in the next room, and she examines the space more carefully. Despite the artificial lighting, there’s still a live fire in the corner, heating the whole room. There isn’t a holo-pad anywhere, nor any communicative technology that could disrupt Luke’s peace or track him down.

There are books, though. Ones with actual, real paper, like the one from Han’s hidden box. Rey has only seen a few of them in the marketplace on Jakku, where she had been forbidden to touch them. She’s only learned to read through screens, like every other youth. She remembers being taught as a child, but very hazily.

Luke disrupts her thoughts as he places a bowl on the table. Inside is soup, still steaming hot, and Rey stares at it. The water is brown, and it smells faintly earthy, but she takes a bite without hesitation. She has had a long day, and has never turned food away in her entire life.

Rey eats every bite and does not think anything of the taste. She isn’t sure if it tastes good or bad, only knows that it fills her up very quickly. She even raises the bowl to her lips for every drop, and Luke stares at her the whole time. She only quirks her head at him when she’s finished.

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Asks, “Where do you come from?”

“Jakku.”

He gives her the same look that Han Solo did: pity. She wishes people would stop doing that.

“Did you live there?”

“Yes.”

He takes the bowl and disappears. He doesn’t ask Rey any more questions for the rest of the night.

* * *

Rey wakes up when dawn comes around, her body used to very little sleep. She stretches in the hammock Luke had made for her, and listens to the satisfying pops of her joints. She sleeps in the main room, and it is eerily silent. Every noise she makes feels as though it echoes, even her silent footsteps, where her bare feet are gentle on the ground.

It isn’t hard to figure her way around. The island, as a whole, is not large, and Luke’s cavern dwelling is only made for one person. Still, Rey leaves without spying, and is greeted with a face full of cold air that sends goosebumps along her arms. She thinks that she’s felt cold air before, a long time ago before Jakku.

Rey squints at the cloudy sky. She does not remember much before Jakku, cannot even recall the faces of the family who left her. She can remember ice, though, of catching snow on her tongue. She’s never had this memory before, has only been able to recall heat so hot it could melt metal ships. Something about this island brings stillness in her, makes it easier for her buzzing mind to simmer down and focus.

She hikes. The coast is not far, she can hear the roar of waves from here. Her grey vest is puffy, and keeps her chest warm. But there are no parts of her new clothes that flow in the wind, everything is tight and compact against her. Though she knows it’s a bit silly, she misses it, though her pilot friend back at the base had mentioned how easily it would be to step on her clothes, and send her plummeting.

The edge of the island comes up close, and Rey is slow to approach it. The side of the cliff crumbles a bit, but sits solid and stable. Rey tests it with a tap of her foot, and backs away a foot or so before lowering herself to the ground. She crosses her legs and stares, expression hard only because the wind makes her eyes water. The sun is behind her, and she can see it reflect against the ocean when the clouds break apart.

Luke finds her when the sun is halfway across the sky. She’s thankful for his distance, and doesn’t mind it when he lowers himself beside her, mirroring her position. For a few minutes, he doesn’t speak, only lets the breeze sweep through his greying hair.

After a while, he leans back and tells her, “This is where I come and think.” He raises his metal hand and points higher up the mountain, “There isn’t a spot from here to there where I haven’t sat and rested. It’s important, for a Jedi, to understand the thoughts that run through your head. Knowing what you truly think is what gives you inner peace.”

Rey looks to him, and he’s staring at her. “There are many ways to train you. I’ve tried every way I can think of in the past, but each Padawan is different. I haven’t done this in a long time, so with you, Rey, I’m going to go back to the beginning and try something I never have before.” He smiles, but it’s a sad expression. “I know you wish to go back to the Resistance, but together we’ll take time in our isolation to train you. Here, we’ll focus with no interruptions. Just you, and me, and the Force.”

His face is open, and Rey realizes that he’s asking her, in a way. She has a choice here, with him. He isn’t going to force her to stay.

She nods. He does the same.

“Since we agree, I’ll give you your first lesson right now.” He takes in a deep breath and straightens his back, “Meditation is an important way to clear your mind and touch the force. It’s like a still pool that surrounds you, and when you try very hard, you can create a very small ripple that affects every living thing around you…”

Rey closes her eyes like he does, and feels it.

* * *

For three weeks, she does nothing but meditate. At first, it makes her anxious. Luke tells her to run up and down the steps when she feels this way, and she doesn’t fear the wet stairs after a few days. However, slowly, the spike of urgent nerves in her gut dies down. After the twentieth day, she can sit down and breathe, and feel nothing but a soothing peace inside her.

Luke tells her that he’s proud of her. Impatience was always his worst problem, but he knew she had diligence and calmness the second he met her. She just needed to find it.

* * *

He places the Lightsaber on the table during dinner. It makes a loud thud, which makes Rey cough into her soup. “This is yours now,” he tells her.

She places her spoon down against the wood, and stares at it. “Mine? What about yours?” She catches his eyes, her own filled with questions.

He looks ready to face the world. “It’s time I’ve made a new one, I’ve ran from this fight for too long. Part of me has changed and it doesn’t call to me anymore. It calls to you now.”

He takes her to a planet and teaches her about the crystals there. His new Lightsaber is green.

* * *

Training with it takes more time than Rey thought it would. There are different methods, different ways to defend, and different ways to attack. Luke tells her that a Jedi almost always wants to fight defensively, because the opposite causes harm. He doesn’t teach her any offensive moves, and Rey does not blame him, with the way his eyes go tired when he thinks about the past.

It takes them two months to learn it, and she still has not mastered how to do it without looking yet. One day, out of the blue, Luke sighs in the afternoon and says, “I wish I had a Remote here.”

Rey pauses mid-stroke, and asks him what it is. He explains to her how he used one, in his rushed, early training. Rey cannot help the large grin on her face, one that makes her cheeks hurt. Luke narrows his eyes at her, “What’s that look for?”

The Falcon is long gone. Chewie left after their trip to find Luke’s new Saber, after Rey had reassured him that she was settled and only a call away. However, she took a few things off of it, and kept them in the small corner of their cavern that Luke gave to her. One of them is the ball he described.

Luke laughs when she pulls it out to show him, and she feels like an excited child looking for a parent’s approval. The sound warms her heart, and she realizes that it’s the first time she’s ever heard it, true and genuine without and sadness or guilt laced behind it. Rey begins to feel comfortable here.

* * *

After that, the emotional distance Luke had with her vanishes, as though he’s walked over a bridge to finally meet her. He opens his mind to her, and answers any questions she asks. One day, when her eyes are drawn to the silver glint of his hand in the sunlight, she does not hesitate to question him on it.

Instead of the short version, he sits her down for a meal, and tells her the story of his father. The name _Darth Vader_ is familiar to her, and the mask he describes pops up in her mind. She remembers it differently than he does, all bent and melted, and she knows she got the image from Kylo Ren’s mind. She tries to shake the thoughts of him away, but they’re already there, present for the first time in months.

“What about your Soulmate?” she finds herself asking. “If your tattoo was on that wrist, what happened?” Luke goes quiet, and Rey blinks. “Oh, no, I mean—you don’t have to answer that.”

“No,” he says slowly, once again reminding Rey of his sister, “as your Master, I want to be completely honest with you. When my hand was severed, it felt as though my connection with my Soulmate was cut, as well.”

“Was it the Lightsaber that cut the tie?”

Luke shakes his head, “No, I don’t think so. Such a bond can’t be severed so easily, I think that it was just the right time.”

The concept sounds both horrifying and like relief at the same time. Rey cannot imagine _not_ having a Soulmate, but the thought of being separated from Kylo Ren sounds like a blessing. “Were you upset?”

Another sad smile, “Yes, but I learned, eventually, that no one can go against the Force.”

He is so honest with her, and Rey feels guilt bubble inside her, feels it flow through her like the waves they live next to. She glances at her own wrist, and squeezes her eyes shut, giving in. “Master,” Rey says, voice strained, “I have something to show you.”

Her bandages unravel just like they did for Leia. She feels calmer now, though, only slightly wary. As soon as the name is revealed to him, Luke shifts, moving to face her with his entire body. His face is serious, but not angry, upset, or surprised. “I think I knew,” he tells her after only a few moments. Most of the time, he does not keep her on edge, and does not make her wait with his replies.

“Did you feel it in the Force?”

He shakes his head, “No, the answer is much simpler than that. I knew Ben. I was there when he was born. I saw the name that was on his wrist, and I have always known that it was Rey.” His eyes bore into her own, “We all have. Even Han, and from what you’ve told me about him, I think he knew when he met you, just like I did.”

She doesn’t want to think about Han Solo, because it makes her heart hurt. Instead, she asks, “Is that why you didn’t want to train me at first?”

“Yes,” he sighs. “You know what he did, and what he turned into. I couldn’t bear another betrayal, but I know now that there is only light in you. I’m not worried you’ll betray me, I’m only worried about what your loyalty will eventually cost you.”

His confession makes tears come to her eyes. Rey has tried not to think about it, but it would be a lie to say that she wasn’t worried about what would become of her with a Soulmate like Kylo Ren. “How do you know that I won’t turn out like him?”

Luke’s hands are gentle when they take her own. “Because I know you, and I know that there is patience, and kindness, and strength inside of you. You do not hesitate to fight for what is right. The only turmoil in you is the darkness from him. It seeps into your consciousness through your bond, an unlucky side-effect from the both of you being so strong with the Force. But can you not sense how at peace you’ve been since you’ve come here?” He pauses, searches her face. Rey nods, because she has hardly thought of him since she arrived.

“Yes, you do feel it. The meditation and the training has strengthened your endurance. You can block out what you feel from him if you try hard enough. The darkness inside of you, what you have been struggling to fight, is not your own. You are strong, because it has not made you waiver. I am lucky to train you, Rey.”

He’s startled by the way she shoots from her position to hug him. Her arms are tight around his neck, and his body is warm and solid as he holds her. She thinks that this is what it’s like to have a father.

* * *

That night, Rey’s dreams shift.

The usual gray blankness that greets her at night is gone. Instead, she’s faced with a dark sky, pitch black and starless. She squints her eyes to catch the bit of light in the air, and has to try very hard to see the glimmer of town in the distance.  It sparkles like a small ball, so tiny she can reach out with her hand and curl a fist around the image of it.

She moves. The ground is uneven, covered in rocks and roots. She stumbles, and catches herself against the trunk of a large tree, the base of it thicker than her entire waist. The heel of her hand scrapes against it, the feeling sharp and stinging. She hisses, fear and pain mix together inside her, and she only wipes the blood against her pants. Her clothes are dark, too, and she blends into the shadows as if she is one.

Still, Rey keeps going, moving towards the light. The air smells like forest, but when the wind shifts, she catches the smell of burning metal. A familiar smell, one of red fire. She tries to move faster, but realizes now that there’s a bag on her back, holding her down. The gravity on this planet feels stronger, and the air thinner. Her whole body weeps, begging to stop, just for a moment, but she can’t. She holds onto the straps around her shoulders as if they’ll ground her.

Something is behind her, chasing her, and if she stops, she dies. She isn’t sure how she knows this, there’s nothing she can hear, no snuffling of an animal or crunchy footsteps like her own. But there is a tingle on the back of her neck, one that makes her tense and her breathing quick. Rey worries about what’s behind her, barely paying attention to what’s ahead, can barely dodge tree branches and step over logs. There is a hole up ahead, and she falls into it, her heel sliding against the ring of dirt that opens up into it. But before she hits the bottom, she surges from her sleep, tumbling over in her cot.

Her whole body is covered in sweat, and the warm air from the fireplace makes her feel overheated. She runs a hand down her face, and stares at the wall, panting. There’s no way she can sleep after that, her body too wired. Instead of trying, she slips on her shoes, and goes for a run. The air is enough to cool her off.

* * *

A single pebble is held in front of her face.

“The Force is strong inside of you,” Luke says, a small grin playing on his lips, “but can you make it strong on the outside, too?” Rey knows that he’s excited, by the way his body is tight and jittery. She’s become good at channeling the Force through her and through her saber, but after five months, Luke wants to take it to a higher level.

“How?”

His smile widens, stretching across his face. His fingers, pinching the small stone, release it into the air. Instead of falling to the dirt, it floats in the space between their faces, rotating and bouncing with the wind. The Force flows off of it in waves, so strong Rey can feel it echo off her puffing breaths.

“Concentrate on it,” he tells her. “You know how to manipulate the force around yourself, but directing it around another object is harder.” He nods down at her hand, and she quickly raises it, used to his mannerisms. The second her fingers open, the pebble drops to her palm.

Luke’s hand covers hers, and he curls her fingers in. “This, like meditation, is to be done alone. We can discuss your progress at dinner.”

He leaves her, just like that.

Rey hikes to her usual meditation spot near the cliffs. There, she sits ten feet from the edge, crosses her legs, and drops the rock to the ground in front of her. It buries itself in the grass, but she can see it, black against the green. It’s smooth, unlike the other rocks that crumble from the mountain. Luke must have gotten it from the sea.

Her gaze settles on it, and she concentrates as directed, staring very hard. It does nothing. Rey closes her eyes, and tries to find peace in her thoughts, meditating for an hour. She hopes the Force will help her, give her something to follow, but she finds that she cannot give herself to it completely. Her body shifts, her mind wanders.

In the back of her thoughts, there is a small itch, one that she can’t escape from. It nags at her, the force of it stronger the more she tries not to open up those dark thoughts. Rey squeezes her fingers into her palm, hard enough for her short nails to make the skin there sting. She tries, but even on the island, she can’t escape everything forever. Memories break free like water from a dam, flooding her entire consciousness as though she’s reliving them.

_Rey finds herself back on Starkiller, and snow sticks to her hair. Goosebumps rise along her arms, even beneath her wrappings. She pants, the air too cold for her lungs. At her side, Finn grasps her hand. They’re running._

_Kylo Ren greets them. He throws her back with the Force, and seeing him is a harder blow than the tree against her back. Even as she rises in the snow, trying to regain her footing, she can’t forget the fact that he is the name on her wrist. Only Finn’s cries of agony pull her out of her thoughts._

_In desperation, she reaches out to him, begging the universe for help. Luke Skywalker’s Lightsaber flies into her hand, and Rey considers that maybe she is given a miracle._

She opens her eyes.

The air, still chilly, is warmer than the snow. Grass is soft beneath her body, twisted into her hands. Across from her, the ocean is still for once, the tide low. And the pebble, which she placed on the ground, trembles, twisting itself into the cliffside. It moves like Rey’s fear, like the heart quickly pounding in her chest.

She breathes in the air, steadying herself. When her body relaxes, when the flight-or-fight reflex dies away, she closes her eyes and tries again. Instead of reliving her fear, Rey tries what Luke has taught her. She tries to use her hope instead, though it doesn’t come to her as easily now. Her mind feels as though it’s covered with a layer of ice, and chills creep down her spine.

It takes a while, but with effort, the stone eventually rises.

* * *

The nightmares don’t stop.

The horizon here is familiar. Jakku. Rey sees nothing but sand, stretching on and on for miles. The heat is like an old friend, and she coughs when the dry wind swirls dust into her face. On top of her head is the Rebellion fighter helmet, and behind her is her home, a metal corpse. She blinks, pulling the visor away from her face and shaking sand out of her hair.

Rey coughs again, trying to clear her throat, and it burns. She’s so thirsty, her throat so parched that she has to crawl inside to take a gulp of water. The inside is like an oven, cooking under the sun, everything almost too hot to touch. The heat feels real. The way her eyes water feels real. Jakku is everything she has ever known, and her waking position was where she was before she met BB-8.

But wait, she _did_ meet him, and followed an adventure because of it. There is a scar on her thigh to prove it, where she had fallen down while hiking with Master Luke and sliced it open on a jutting rock. Rey peels her dirty clothes away, but her skin is smooth, perfect. There is no scar there. For a moment, she feels nothing but pure, unfiltered panic.

And then she gathers herself, looks around. She leaves her shelter, pulling her staff out of the sand and walks. She feels a weight on her body, feels it pulling her to the ground. Not like gravity, this time, but as though her shadow is trying to take her to the core of the planet. When the sun moves overhead, the direction of the pulling changes, grabbing her from the new spot of her shadow. Rey walks until she can’t anymore, until she falls to her knees, giving in.

When she awakes, it’s a slow, ugly thing. Her body is too cold this time, too exhausted to do anything but fall asleep and dream of something else.

* * *

This happens for weeks. They’re different, every time, and do nothing but get worse. Rey can tell by the looks Luke gives her that he’s worried, but she only trains harder. He can’t complain if she’s still doing everything right.

* * *

The Force seems to enhance her dreams and make them seem real. She feels everything in them that she would when she’s awake, although there’s a certain buzz, in the back of her mind, that’s only there when she is dreaming. Rey learns, after a while, how to notice it.

She sits on the beach of her fantasy island, the one she is most familiar with. The curve of the sandbars and the tall trees are all from her childhood, where she would wish for her family and wait until they came back for her. Here, she has no hope, and only calmly, emptily, stares at the sea.

The waves roll in gently, coming to her ankles. Rey’s hands curl around her legs, around her knees, folding her into herself. She pointedly stares ahead, ignoring the figure next to her: Kylo Ren. He stares at the sunset, too, but his body is sprawled out. His mask is nowhere to be seen, but the rest of his outfit is the same. He leans backwards on his hands, his legs extended and crossed in front of him. The waves come over them, roll onto his pants and on his cape. He sits still, like it doesn’t bother him. Like it isn’t even there.

It’s silent for a long time, absent of laughter, of talking. Her family is missing, but she thinks she can stand the loneliness, the quietness, until he starts humming to himself. She doesn’t recognize the tune, but it makes Rey shiver, pins and needles running through her with each pulse. She finally turns to him, “What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t turn to look at her, but his voice is calm, like it was when he interrogated her. Smug. All-knowing. There is a smile on his lips, she can tell even with his cheek turned to her. “What do you mean?”

Rey releases her legs, turning to face him in anger. “I mean—why are you here? In my dreams? Why do you keep haunting me?” By now, his face is no surprise to her. He’s been in her nightmares often enough, but usually, they’re running, fighting. This unnerves her.

“Oh, Rey,” he sings, “my scavenger. Haven’t you realized it by now? I’ve always been in your dreams, ever since you were a girl. This isn’t new.”

“I don’t understand,” she admits, frustrated. She feels as though her hazy, dream-self is missing something.

He moves his face to her, slightly, giving her a hard look. “On this island, it’s been you, your family, and who else?”

“My Soulmate,” she replies automatically. He doesn’t even have to pull the answer out of her. Though she’s known it, has known it for months, the direction the answer heads thoroughly shocks her.

He grins, and there is red splattered in his teeth. “You have your answer. I’ve always been a part of you, waiting. I knew I’d find you.” He leans across the space between them and takes her chin between his fingers, his face inches from hers. She glances up, over his shoulders, and sees blood seep into the sea. Her family isn’t gone, but dead, their corpses lying flat on the sand.

She looks back at him, in his eyes, and wakes up before his lips can kiss hers. A small solace.

* * *

Rey is very good at using the Force to lift things, now. Even with the purple shadows under her eyes, she can breathe in and out, concentrate, and use her new abilities. Pebbles aren’t problems anymore, she can lift boulders feet off the ground. They’re heavy to her, to her consciousness, but she can do it.

Today, they only hover a few inches. Her heart isn’t in it, even if her fingers tremble with the energy she exerts trying. Luke watches her from afar, and it’s a surprise when he joins her, helping the weight off her back and shoulders. He raises his arm and the boulder goes up, like it’s flying, like it weighs nothing.

“There’s something on your mind,” he says, and it isn’t a question. There is no judgement in his tone, his voice only soft, reassuring.

“Yes,” she admits, and lets the weight go. Luke holds it up for a few moments, before gently settling it back in its spot. He’s slow to speak again.

“You haven’t been sleeping well.” Again, not a question.

Rey looks to him, at his weary blue eyes. She cannot lie to him today, but cannot tell him the truth, either. Cannot bear to disappoint him. “Yes.”

He doesn’t hug her, but his distance feels like a comfort. “You don’t have to tell me, but I’m here. You understand that you can come to me?”

She nods, turns to the rock. Even if she can’t concentrate, she pushes herself even harder.

* * *

Even if she knows she’s dreaming, Rey can’t wake up from the nightmares that have _him_ in them. She has to force herself to suffer through them, because her body is stuck, paralyzed in her sleep. There is no breaking away from it. She wonders if that’s because of their bond, and wishes that she could hate it. Rey knows, deep down, that hate isn’t in her nature.

She sits up on her hammock, in the small corner of the cave she and Luke call home. It’s dark, and the fireplace crackles, and everything is calm. It looks normal, feels that way, but there’s the buzzing in the back of her mind that makes Rey instantly on-edge.

Her eyes scan the room, suddenly alert instead of weary. She places her bare feet on the floor, and walks the room. Though she can’t see him, she knows he is there, through the bond. She pokes around the area with the Force, surveying it, sending out waves like a radar. When she pinpoints where he is in the room, her body is suddenly frozen.

Kylo Ren comes from the shadows, as though he melted from them. His mask hides his face from her, and she struggles against the hold. Rey knows that she’s strong enough to break his power against her, but in this dream, she cannot escape. She stops straining against it when her mind becomes dizzy, like too much G-force is being placed on her head.

He circles her, watches her, steps slow and agonizing. He moves like dripping honey, taking his time with it as he surveys her form. “What is my name?” he asks, and the words are drawn out, like his motions.

“Kylo Ren,” Rey grits out from her teeth. His hold on her hurts, and her brows pull together, both confused and frustrated at his question.

“Yes,” he hums, but he sounds very different than he did on the beach. There, he was quiet, at ease. Here, she can tell that this is the calm before a storm, where he has barely enough control to hold himself back for a few short moments. She swallows.

“Why is it that,” he starts, “if my name is Kylo Ren, the name on your wrist says something else?” As if to prove his point, he surges forward and takes her wrist between his long fingers. He squeezes, and she can feel the bones grind against each other, his grip leaving dark indigo marks.

Then he throws her wrist away, her body still frozen. He turns, his back to her, pulls out his saber. It ignites, and he slices it against the little furniture that there is in the room. He tears her cot apart, tears the table that sits across from it, where she and Luke eat. He destroys an actual paper picture of Han and Leia, smiling at each other, in love. In between each stream of swings, he yells, voice furious and echoing off of the walls, “ _I_ ” slice “ _am_ ” swing “ _not_ ” smash “ _Ben_ ” hiss “ _Solo_!”

Rey does not quiver, only watches in silent horror. When he finally swirls around to face her, his mask is bright red against the light of the fire. He stalks to it, pulling out an iron staff, one used to poke at it to keep it lit. Instead of the sharp end, there are letters. When he gets closer to her, Rey can see that it’s spells out his name, _Kylo Ren_.

He stares at her wrist, gaze intent, and she cries out. “No,” she begs, realizing what he’s going to do. “Please, don’t—” She struggles against his prison, but she cannot escape it. When he presses the brand to the skin of her tattoo, sealing her fate, she screams--

“Rey!”

A firm hand shakes her shoulder, breath hot on her face. “Rey, wake up!”

Jutting from her sleep, she moves and slams right into Luke’s body. His fingers curl around her arms, holding her in place, and she can only see his face. She glances to the side, and is thankful that, for once, the fire is out, the room dark and cool.

Her breaths are short, panting, on the verge of panic. Tears gather in her eyes, and she can’t help the way her lip trembles. “He’s there,” she finally tells him, “in my dreams.” A painful noise comes up from the back of her throat, and Luke pulls her into her arms, a hand on the back of her head. For just a moment, she allows herself to be comforted by him.

* * *

Rey stares at the wall as she eats breakfast. Luke sits with her, silently watching, not having left her side. She isn’t hungry, but the survival part of her body still refuses to turn away food. She eats her oats and fruit and doesn’t taste any of it.

He only speaks once she’s finished, and pushed the bowl away. Luke’s words are well-thought out and cautious, spoken carefully, “Rey… we’re going to D’Qar.”

The Resistance base. She blinks up at him, startled from her exhausted stupor, “I’m sorry?”

He straightens, says again, “We’re going to D’Qar. Leia sent a request to see us several months ago, and I think your training would be better suited if we did it somewhere familiar.”

“This is because of the dreams,” she says, growing cold. “Master Luke,” a formal title neither of them use very often, “I’m stronger than this, I’m not weak.”

His hair falls into his face when he shakes his head. “I know. But this invasion is more than just the Soulmate bond at work. When you told me, a long time ago, that he invaded your mind on Starkiller…” He trails off, and looks away from her eyes. “When he did this, because of your connection, I fear it may have left… remnants.”

She looks at him, confusion clear across her face. He goes on, “I don’t believe that it’s the actual Kylo Ren infiltrating your thoughts. You would know if he was entering your head. Parts of his mind, of his personality, are etched into yours from your meeting… almost like a ghost. Not him, translucent in comparison, but enough to make a difference.”

Rey feels helpless. “Will it… am I able to…”

His gaze snaps back to her. “You’re strong, but unfinished. I don’t blame you, please understand that. _This is not your fault_. This is open-ended business. I think… I have to confer with my sister. I don’t know what to do from here.” His admission is quiet, but it shakes her whole world.

“All right,” Rey agrees, just as quietly, refusing to let fear seep into her bones. “We’ll go back.”

Luke contacts them for her, calling for the Falcon. Chewie is there by the afternoon, and greets her with a hug so strong it lifts her off her feet. She is filled with relief when she sees him, as though something dark inside her is melting away.

She helps him pilot the Falcon, though she’s a bit rusty at her flying. She can remember the controls well enough, though he does correct her once or twice, for small mistakes. He tells her she still has a lot to learn, the words echoes of something Han Solo told her, a long time ago. The tricky coursework makes it easy to block out her thoughts.

* * *

Though the Resistance knows they’re coming, Rey doesn’t expect such a large welcoming party. Chewie exits first, and then Luke, who the crowd engulfs instantly. They don’t touch him, but circle around him, as he and Leia face each other. They stare at one another for a long few moments, before they come together in a tender hug. Rey has never seen Luke smile the way he does into his sister’s hair.

Rey lingers behind, gripping a pole on the ramp down, in between the automatic door and the ground. She watches as the others do, but with a distance, a sad, small smile twisting on her face. But even with the buzzing of the crowd, she still hears it, shouted across the landing strip, “Rey!” She searches all of the faces, and her eyes go wide when she sees Finn.

He’s farther down, but has his hands in the air, waving them to get her attention. The grin on his face is blinding, and Rey shoots from her hidden spot, pushing past the group of soldiers and straight into Finn’s arms. He twirls her around, arms curled around her waist, hands poking at the ticklish part of her ribs. Her hands rest on the back of his neck and the space between his shoulders.

His body is warm, and he smells different than she remembers. Less sterile, more himself, more… oh, there it is. More like Poe. Rey pulls away but her hands reach out to cup his face, palms settling against his cheeks, “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too!” Her cheeks hurt from the smile she has, and she hasn’t felt this happy in months. Peace and balance are necessary as a Jedi, but the swell of emotion in her is necessary for her to exist as a _person_. She clings to him again, eyes closing as she takes in the feel of him, of the security that he provides. It’s almost as though she was never away.

They stay that way for a minute or two, before a hand curls around her elbow. “Hey, d’you mind if I cut in?”

Rey lifts her head off of Finn’s chest, and blurts out his name, “Poe!”

His smile is hypnotizing, and she is happy to see it, thrilled to be charmed. He pulls her to him, chin resting on the top of her head. “You’ve changed your hair,” he notes.

“Oh,” she says in the direction of his ear, reflecting on the way it tumbles down her back, “yes. I guess I have.” He releases her, lets Finn join him at her side.

“I like it.”

Her face, already flushed from the excitement, goes deep red. She isn’t embarrassed, but almost overwhelmed. Poe jabs his elbow at Finn’s ribs, nods to her, “Do you guys want to get out of here? The cafeteria has blue-and-orange layered lasagna that’s pretty much to die for.”

Rey nods eagerly, looking up at Finn, who gives an agreeing smile. “Did you get a lot of pasta while you were with Skywalker?”

“Sort of,” she says, shrugging. “To be quite fair, he’s not too great of a cook…”

* * *

Rey is pulled from her sleep by a loud beeping, the message icon on her tablet blinking in the dark. It’s beside her small, military bed, on the metal table. She drowsily grabs it by the corner and pulls it close to her face.

ONE MESSAGE: GENERAL LEIA ORGANA

She taps at the screen before a hologram fills the room. The computer reads the text to her, and bright blue words swirl in front of her face as it follows. “ _Hello, Rey, I was hoping you’d come to see me. I’ll be in the Command Center most of the day if you would like to meet me there this afternoon. Thank you, from General Organa. Signing out_.”

There’s a moment where she just stares, and then she lets the tablet drop back down, her head falling into her pillow. It’s too soft for her face, but she’s exhausted enough to drift back into rest anyway. Rey is thankful; she has no nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry guys! I had way more of this written than I thought I did. I got really busy with school and was unable to write. However, after going through the draft, I realized that instead of three chapters, it would be four and an epilogue. I realize it's been a little while so thank you all for being so patient and I look forward to posting the next chapter soon!


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